THE MATING BALL

POV: Araya

I shouldn’t have trusted it.

The parchment was too smooth. The seal is too clean. No dirt on the edge, no curl. Too perfect — tucked beneath the straw of my kennel mat like hope daring me to believe.

But it was real.

The wax bore the Alpha House’s mark — a crescent moon over a spear. I had only ever seen it on letters to nobles. Never like this. Never for me.

I pulled it free, careful not to tear the edge. I wiped my nails on my hem before touching the seal — as if clean hands would make it more real.

With trembling fingers, I opened it.

In the light, the words glimmered:

> You are formally invited to the Moon Ball, held to celebrate the mating season.

All wolves of age and unmated must attend.

You are the one chosen.

— By order of the Alpha House

I read it once.

Twice.

A third time, whispering, “You are chosen.”

The words clung to me like glue. They didn’t mock. They sounded like… salvation. A whisper of something long denied.

Could it be real?

I had never been invited to anything. Not a feast. Not a blessing. Not even the blood moon vigils.

I was the cursed one. The wolfless. Forgotten.

Yet here it was. My name. The Alpha’s seal. A summons to the one night when fates were decided.

Maybe the Alpha had changed his mind.

Maybe silence and obedience had finally earned me something.

This could be my only chance to be seen.

---

I had nothing to wear. No silk. No jewels. Only a patchwork dress sewn from scraps behind the tailor’s shed.

I had pricked my fingers raw sewing it by candlelight. The bodice didn’t quite fit. The shoulders pulled when I breathed. But it was all I had.

I washed it in the cold stream, crushing my last stolen lavender into the rinse — a soft scent of hope.

It wasn’t silk.

It wasn’t moon-blessed.

But it was mine.

And so I went.

---

The Grand Hall’s silver-plated gates loomed above me, the crystal chandeliers beyond spilling gold light onto polished marble.

I stepped forward—

—And the first wave of laughter hit.

“She came?”

“Oh my Moon, she actually came.”

“And she wore that?”

“Who let the dog out of the kennel?”

Cruel. Sharp. Loud enough to strip skin.

“I didn’t think she would actually attend.”

“Can’t believe she fell for the oldest trick in the book.”

Laughter broke like bones under teeth.

I froze.

The light felt colder now, passing through me without touching.

The marble beneath my worn slippers burned with judgment.

My dress — stitched with trembling fingers — felt heavier with every step.

Still, I kept walking.

A shoulder slammed into mine.

“Careful, kennel rat,” a she-wolf sneered, spilling her wine across my dress.

Red seeped into the faded fabric like a wound.

“She’ll need to mop that up later,” someone laughed.

“Someone call the Beta, there’s a stray in the ballroom!”

The sneers grew sharper.

The words louder.

Still, I walked.

Because the letter had come.

Because someone had remembered my name.

---

I barely noticed the hush until it swallowed my steps.

Heads turned.

And there he was — Kade Blackthorn, heir to the Alpha, standing at the front in black and silver.

Our eyes met.

The air shifted — like the gods had just inhaled.

And then I heard it.

Low. Possessive. From within me:

Mate.

I didn’t understand it.

But the way his gaze locked on me — recognition laced with loathing — made my stomach drop.

And then his lips moved.

“No,” he said softly.

Again.

And again.

Until his hands clenched and the hatred sharpened.

POV: Kade

The scent hit me first.

Smouldering sandalwood. Honeyed embers. Wild moonflower.

And something else — a whisper of divine starlight.

It clawed straight through my ribs and into my wolf.

Mate.

The word detonated in my skull.

My wolf lunged forward, claws scraping for her, growling in possession.

No.

No. No. No.

Not her.

Not the wolfless stray.

Not the thing the pack laughed at.

My wolf snarled, but I shoved it back with teeth-gritted fury.

“Enough,” I snapped — and the music died.

Every head turned to me, then to her.

Alone in the centre of silks, sneers, and silence.

---

I walked forward, each step a sentence.

I stopped close enough to see every threadbare seam, every stain, every stupid flicker of hope in her eyes.

“What’s your name?”

“Araya Stormborn.”

“Get on your knees.”

Her knees cracked against marble.

I let the words fall, each one a blade:

“I, Kade Blackthorn of the Blackthorn Pack, reject you, Araya Stormborn, as my mate and Luna.”

The words hit like a guillotine.

Gasps rippled.

Laughter followed.

And in that moment, something in her stilled — not the bond, but something older.

Hungrier.

Waiting.